Occult
by NumberOneTwihard
Summary: Homeless Bella Swan is running from her hometown of Forks, trying to escape from a life riddled with trouble. Edward Masen is a millionaire, living in a mansion in Seattle, with a dark secret. When they cross paths, will sparks fly? Or will Bella be forced to go back to the life she was running from?
1. Preface: Superman

Occult

**Hey! Wait, what's this? A new story? Check it out!**

**~This story will deal with very mature themes. I will put a warning before each chapter if the story goes into detail of something mature. But, if you're looking for smut, you're not gonna get it. I'm 14, that's not my thing. Just leave a review, or PM me for anything. Wether you like it, love it, or hate this, I will be fine with it. I agree, it will be a story with dark themes. Well, thanks for giving it a chance! Don't forget to review! :)~**

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_"I'm more than a bird,_

_I'm more than a plane,_

_I'm more than some pretty face, beside a train._

_And it's not easy to be me."_

-Superman, Five for Fighting

**PREFACE**

Bella POV

_ 'Shit!'_ I thought, cringing from the bitter cold wind. The coffee shop, one of the warmest places in town, had just kicked me out. Apparantly, the manager wasn't as much of an idiot than I thought. He had noticed that I was loitering- just sitting at one of the small tables, not buying anything, talking, or even getting near people. I don't do that anymore- talking, or getting close to people, I mean. I would definitely buy something, if I had money, but then again, I don't talk to people, so ordering would be kinda hard.

Although the whole loitering thing was more than true, it had been an hour untill closing time. I'd bet he has something against me already- just trying to get me out onto the cold, again. Back to the crime filled streets for me, I suppose. Better find a dry alley with no druggies. I try not to get mixed up with the druggies.

Wondering why I'm living on the streets? I don't plan on telling you, or anyone else. That's for you to never find out, and for me-

I'll have to painfully remember it for the rest of my life.

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**The actual chapters will be longer. This is just the preface. Don't forget to reveiw!**


	2. Chapter 1: You Won't Feel a Thing

Occult

** A big thanks to my editor- Savannah Jean 128! Love ya girl, and I love everyone reading this! You guys are super snazzy! **

**~Warning, this story will deal with dark themes! This chapter in particular has cussing, mild violence and mention of self-injury. I understand they are sensitive topics, kay? Enjoy the story, and don't forget to reveiw!~**

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_"I've been put on the street, I've been left in the cold._

_Had my dreams held up, had them shot full of holes,_

_I've been laughed at, hurt, been the butt of the joke._

_I've been lit up in flames, I have gone down in smoke._

_I've been stabbed in the back, while they promised the earth-_

_Tried to keep my head high, for all I'm worth."_

-You Won't Feel a Thing, The Script

**CHAPTER ONE**

_He gives me another slap across the face. I don't even know what I did this time. Whatever it was, it must have upset him. A lot. He's never beaten me up this much; not even when he had been drinking. I hadn't spoken to him the whole day, maybe that was it. No, he gets mad when I talk. This was the worst theory maybe he was just using me as his own personal punching bag; beating the shit out of me for no reason at all._

_ "Bella! Stop flinching away from me!" He screams, rage all over his features. I earned another blow, but this time to the stomach._

_A long time ago, I found those features on his face beautiful. I thought he was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Apparently not._

"Bella!" A voice called, from the other end of the street, making me flinch, and pulling me out of the horrid memory. The figure walked under a street lamp, illuminating themselves.

It was Charlotte. Through the pouring rain of Port Angeles, I could barely Her short brown hair had grown past her shoulders, now. It looked more vibrant and healthier now, but I hadn't seen her in months. She may have looked like that all along- I don't remember.

"Hey, girl," She said to me, keeping her distance. The expression on her face looked like she wanted to put an arm around my shoulder, but she knew I was easily scared and flinched often. It was all _his_ fault.

"Just got off work. Wanna go hang somewhere?" Charlotte's 'work' wasn't necessarily a real job. Well, I guess it was. If you count being a prostitute as a job. Although her 'job' was slightly disturbing, it was what a lot of us had to do to keep afloat. My mother certainly wouldn't approve of having a prostitute as a best friend, but she doesn't care about me. Never has, never will.

I shrugged. She knew I never spoke.

"Kay. Wanna go grab something to eat?" She smiled smugly. "Just got one hundred dollars. One hundred! For a blow-job! Can you believe it?" She asked excitedly.

I just smiled. She seemed to be happy with what she did, and the reward that she got for it. It put food on the table. Well, it was a non-existant table, considering the fact that we were both homeless.

We walked down the sidewalk to the McDonald's down the street in silence. Charlotte knew me well enough to know that I was most comfortable in the quiet.

Across the street, there was a large, pink neon sign; lighting up the entire street. I looked behind me and Charlotte, and large shadows were cast from the sign, although both of our frames were tiny. Under said sign, there was a group of men beside motorcycles. They seemed harmless enough, but that didn't stop old fears coming back to the surface.

I leaned closer to Charlotte, and she wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder, pulling me toward her. She knew how scared I could get.

We walked into McDonald's. The smell of grease that you get in almost any fast food restaurant overwhelmed me, but it smelled good, nonetheless. I hadn't eaten since Thursday, and today was Sunday, so anything would be perfect. Charlotte ordered for both of us- a burger, fries and a coke each, and Charlotte paid for it. I felt bad for making Charlotte pay for everything, but I had no way to pay her back. I couldn't be a hooker like Charlotte because of past... _experiences,_ and I didn't have a high school diploma, and you can't exactly get a job without a diploma, phone number and permanent address.

I didn't have any of those.

I would probably have a diploma and a good life if _he_ hadn't fucked it up.

Wait, no, scratch that. If _they_ hadn't fucked it up. On top of an abusive boyfriend who threatened to kill me on a weekly basis, I also had terrible parents who beat me up and didn't give a fuck about me.

And some people have it so much easier than me, and they think their life is bad.

As I was eating, my the sleeve long-sleeved shirt rode up to the middle of my arm, revealing the dozens of scars there- some thick, some thin; some fine and white, others still an angry red color. I yanked it back down, to just below my wrist. That was one of the many things I haven't told anyone. Not even Charlotte.

When we were done eating, we carried our trays to the small trashbins in the corner of the restaurant. As I dumped the trash into the bin, I eyed the room around me for the first time. There weren't many people there, because it was eleven o' clock at night- just a few young couples sitting there taling, and one woman in a booth wit her three kids crowded around her.

They looked like a nice family.

That reminded me that I didn't have one- a family. I ran away from it about eight months ago. Not that they were much of a family, anyway.

We stepped outside the glass doors, and into the freezing wind. With Charlotte in her short, skimpy dress and coat, and I in my long sleeved shirt, ripped up jeans and dirty, old flats, we both started to shiver immediatley.

"Hey, I still have a bunch of money left. Wanna see if we can grab a hotel room for the night?" Charlotte asked me.

I considered it for a moment, weighing my pros and cons. Charlotte would be blowing all of her money in one night, but we could be safe and warm in a room. Finally, I shook my head, and gave her a look that said: _You can keep that if you want to. I don't need it._

"Bells, 'you tryin' to say you don't want me to spend it all at once? It's kinda hard to understand you sometimes, but I will get a room if you want me to." She replied to my vague response.

I shook my head once again.

All of a sudden, a shiny silver Volvo, paint shining in the glare off of the streetlights and rain, drove through a large puddle, splashing cold, muddy water onto both of us.

"Asshole!" Charlotte screamed at the car, now yards down the road, shaking her fist. I quietly giggled. The fist-shaking reminded me of an old person yelling at a teenager.

"Come on, wether you like it or not, we're gonna get a room and get cleaned up." She whispered to me, gently pulling my small, shaking frame down the sidewalk to the nearest motel.

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